Game Over
by Empress Empoleon
Summary: Draco's eyes widen, and a tremble spreads through him as his brain struggles to pick up the missing pieces of the puzzle. / Draco, private investigator, starts a case that isn't at all what it seems.


Red wine swirls around in his glass as he twirls it around in his fingers. It almost reminds him of blood.

A knock sounds at the door, breaking him from his reverie. "Come in."

The door pushes open, and a young woman bursts in. Giving her a once-over, Draco decides he likes what he sees - brunette hair tumbling around her shoulders, bright blue eyes wild with excitement, and long, slender legs that seem to go on forever.

"You've got to help me," she gasps, her voice tinkling like a bell. "Please."

How could he refuse such a beautiful lady at his door?

"That depends on what you need help with," he answers, smirking slightly. He has some ideas.

She rolls her eyes; she must be used to it. "Let's be serious. I didn't come to you, Private Investigator Draco Malfoy, for you to try to get me in your bed."

He mock-gasps, pretending to be hurt. "You think of me as such a horrible kind of man?"

She ignores him and sits down, crossing her legs and letting her tight dress settle i a way that makes the man behind the desk quite uncomfortable. "I have a job for you."

"My name is Romilda Vane. I was recently engaged."

"Congratulations," he dryly remarks. So much for that.

"What I came to tell you about," she continues, swallowing visibly. "What I came to say was that my wedding jewelry was stolen."

"And I'm guessing you want me to find it?" he confirms.

"Yes. There's a necklace, earrings, and a ring, all made of emeralds and diamonds," she says. "I can't have my wedding without them. They hold sentimental value."

"Do you have any leads?" he asks, taking out a notepad.

Her eyebrows furrow. "Astoria Greengrass. My ex-best friend."

Oh. So this was a _girl problem_. Why did he always have to get the weird cases?

"We were _inseparable_," she gushes, and he wonders what sane man would want to marry _her_. "But then her boyfriend broke up with her to be with me, and our friendship became strained, eventually ending when he proposed to me."

"And what makes you think that she stole your jewelry?"

"She's the only one who knows where I kept them," Romilda replies. "I kept them in a safe, and she was my safe-keeper, the one with the spare key, in case I lost mine. I trusted her a lot, and she's the only one who could have gotten in, since I never opened it with my key."

She then hands him her key. Examining it, he sees that it's small, and easy to conceal. It looks absolutely normal - a brass colored key with no markings on it whatsoever.

"So there you have it," she tells him, putting her key away and standing up. "I need you to go find Astoria and get my jewels back."

He stands up and shakes her hand firmly to seal the deal.

* * *

It sounded a lot easier in the office.

Walking the streets of London, with a picture of Astoria and her contact information written on the back of it, he decides to find her flat first.

That's easy. She lives in an apartment on the ground floor, meaning he can get in and out through the window if need be.

He feels quite awkward in the bushes, staring into her window. He's pretty sure this is illegal; but this is his job.

Now's his chance.

He gets in through the window, which she didn't bother to lock. After getting inside and shutting it again, he looks around.

Her place is about as big as a broom closet. His head almost touches the ceiling.

Sighing, he runs his hand through his hair. Where to start looking?

Her bedroom. Blushing, he goes into the small hallway and goes into the first room he finds.

It's small and functional. There's not much other than the necessities, like her bed and desk and lamp.

He makes her way to the dresser, and carefully checks each drawer, being sure to leave things exactly as they were.

Not finding it in the dresser, he moves towards the closet. Opening it up, he finds an array of clothes and other trinkets.

There's a jewelery case in the corner. He picks it up and opens it. An eerie ballroom tune begins to play in the quiet room, and Draco tries in vain to shut it off.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

Draco whips around, hiding the case behind his back like a child would hide something from his mother.

He's been caught. When was the last time that happened?

It's a woman; she must be the owner of the flat. Well, he's screwed now.

Midnight black hair falls in waves around her mid-back, flying as she tries to tie it into a messy bun. Her green eyes dart around, coldly calculating. Her reasonable cleavage and curves are accentuated in just the right places by her baggy white shirt, that's just short enough so that it hovers above her waistline, showing off her taut midriff every time she moves her arms.

He can't think of any lie that will let him get away from her. But, maybe he doesn't want to - her looks are messing with his mind.

In a few quick steps, she comes up to him and snatches the case from his hands. He easily lets her, as he's a man and he gets distracted by her slightly transparent shirt fluttering around.

"Why do you have my jewelry in your hands? Why are you in my house?" she asks, deathly calm. He gulps; she doesn't seem like she's in a good mood.

"I don't want any lies," she interrupts as he opens his mouth. "The truth, if you will."

He has no way out of this. Sighing, he explains about how Romilda had hired him to get her jewels back.

After patiently listening to the whole story, she says, "That's not true."

He narrows his eyes. "Yes, it is."

"No, it's not." She smirks slightly. "I know it's not, because_ I'm_ Romilda Vane."

"What?" Draco cries out. That doesn't make sense. How can _she _be Romilda when Romilda-_she _had hired him - it's impossible to wrap his mind around it, so he just leaves it.

"You're Romilda," he clarifies. She nods. "Which means that the woman who hired me-"

"Is Astoria," Ast-_Romilda_ finishes for him.

Silence. How could he let himself be so easily taken advantage of?

"So these are your jewels?" he asks again, trying to figure everything out. She huffs impatiently.

"Don't you understand? She reversed our identities," Romilda explains. "I'm Romilda, and I own this jewelry, and I'm going to wear it at my upcoming wedding to Astoria's ex-boyfriend."

Now he gets it. "But, what will I tell the real Astoria?"

She smirks. "If she wants to ruin me so badly, then let's lead her on a little. How about you take my jewelry and hold it in front of her as you de-mask her? Then I can take care of her."

He agrees to her plan, and then gets out of her flat - this time through the door.

* * *

"Oh, you got them back!" Ro-_Astoria_ yells, running towards his desk, where the jewelry lies in a crumpled heap on the table behind him. "I'm so grateful. Where did you find them?"

"In her closet," he vaguely answers.

"Oh, I should have known," she gushes. "She always hides things in her jewelry case-"

"The game's over, _Astoria_._" _Draco abruptly stands up, gun in hand, cutting her off.

"What do you mean, _Astoria_? I'm Romilda, remember?"

"Stop pretending," he angrily retorts. "You thought you could trick me? I know who you are."

She visibly pales. Draco continues.

"You're not Romilda. You're actually Astoria, and you wanted to steal Romilda's jewelry because she stole your boyfriend and is going to marry him. You switched the stories so I would go and steal the jewels for you, and you would never get involved."

He expects her to remain silent, beg for forgiveness, or try to get away. Instead, she grins.

"Good job," she says. "You've figured it out. But, you got a _few_ things wrong."

"Like what?" he spits. It doesn't matter, because he's the one with the gun.

"I'm not Romilda," she tells him, and just as he's about to interrupt, she continues. "And she's not Romilda either."

Draco's eyes widen, and a tremble spreads through him as his brain struggles to pick up the missing pieces of the puzzle.

"Your main flaw, Mr. Malfoy, is how easily you trust people," she tells him. "Did you ever get proof that I was Romilda Vane, or Astoria Greengrass? Did you ever get proof from who you think is Romilda Vane of her true identity?"

He doesn't reply, but he can't believe how stupid he has been. He's just been blindly believing what they told him, because they were both sexy women.

"Let me tell you the real story, Mr. Malfoy. I'm not Romilda, and neither is she. I'm not Astoria, and neither is she. Those people don't actually exist."

"So then...the person whose house I broke into..." Draco says, paling.

"That house was someone else's," she finishes for him. "That was an innocent person's house you broke into and an innocent person's jewels you stole, Mr. Malfoy."

"No," he breathes, dropping his gun to the floor accidentally. She quickly picks it up, and now Draco's lost all hope.

"You've made this too easy, Mr. Malfoy," she purrs, stroking his gun with her dainty fingers. "You've gotten me the jewels, and allowed me to kill you."

His heart pounds so loud that he can't hear her anymore.

"Goodbye..._Draco_."

She clicks the trigger.

* * *

A/N: I love mysteries, but I've never written them before. Give an honest opinion on this, please!

_Done for:_

_Quidditch Competition - Round 6 (Chaser 2; noir)_

_Legendary Gods/Godesses Competition - Uke Mochi_


End file.
